


Separation and Conjugation

by sidebyside_archivist



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Bonding, M/M, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-01
Updated: 2007-09-01
Packaged: 2020-06-26 16:02:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19771642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidebyside_archivist/pseuds/sidebyside_archivist
Summary: Spock finds out he's not packaged for individual resale.





	Separation and Conjugation

**Author's Note:**

> Note from LadyKardasi and Sahviere, the archivists: this story was originally archived at [Side by Side](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Side_by_Side_\(Star_Trek:_TOS_zine\)) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2019. We tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Side by Side’s collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sidebyside/profile).

Spock stepped out of the doorway and onto a crowded sidewalk. Two blocks inland, now south . He walked briskly, chilly even in Starfleet wools. He was a Vulcan, and the damp chill of a San Francisco morning was not kind to his lungs.

Here. Even in the 23rd century, it was a busy intersection. Instead of automobiles, there were trolleys, bicycles, pedestrians, and the occasional light truck. The sidewalk now took up more of the street than the vehicle lanes, and the air was noticeably cleaner than it had been in 1986, but the noise and the press of the crowd seemed much the same.

Spock found the approximate area of what had been a bus stop. With eidetic clarity he could still recall the shapes of the old buildings. Few of the original structures remained. The continent had not been static in the intervening centuries, then. The bus stop itself was gone, with the bus. Gone too, the ubiquitous newspaper boxes. The lack made the streetscape more faceless, less fixed in time.

"Hey, Starfleet!"

Spock turned towards the voice without really thinking. In some dim past he had learned to answer to that appellation.

A smiling human male was trying to get his attention. He was friendly, skinny, tall, casually dressed, and unusually dark-skinned.

The man winked. "Hey, good job with that whale probe thing."

Spock nodded at the man. "I believe 'thank you' is the appropriate response; however--"

"Hey, you're Spock, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Cool." He smiled again, flashing a lot of white teeth. "My power went out. It was so freaky."

The wind picked up and a few stray drops of mist/rain hit Spock's face. He shivered.

"Dude, isn't it freezing? How can people live here?"

"I take it that you are not a San Francisco native?"

"No, dude, I'm from Malibu."

"Ah, I had wondered about your pigmentation."

"No way, man, this is totally genetic." He held up a bare arm against the steel-gray sky. "You're right, though, Spock--much more of this weather and I could go totally pasty."

"Really?"

"Well, maybe something like a whole wheat paste." Suddenly he looked past Spock, at a squealing steel-wheeled passenger transport.

"I'd better catch that trolley or I'll have to walk all the way back to the hotel. Nice to meet you, though. Spock. That is totally cool. Thank you, seriously," he added, and ran to the trolley stop.

Spock was a little shaken by the encounter, although he gave the customary outer appearance of calm.

He walked past street vendors and cafes, and observed how people looked at him, and he found that wherever he went, he was recognized, if not as himself then at least as a Starfleet officer. Rather than odd looks, hostility, or horror at his alien appearance, he was greeted with smiles, nods, and approval.

It had been a long time since he had walked these streets alone, or it seemed like it. He had always thought those nods of approval were meant for Kirk.

In San Francisco of the past he knew who he was by what he wasn't--human, short-sighted, parochial, crude. In San Francisco of the present those barriers that formed a convenient sense of identity were gone, yet despite his own confusion everyone seemed to know who he was and was eager to point out the signposts to his identity. He couldn't be anyone different if he wanted to be.

It was a heady rush, to know that you were wanted, needed, approved of in the community. Yet he felt lost.

He knew why. He had gone out without his companion, without Jim by his side to show him where to go and more importantly convince him it was a place worth going to. When had he become so dependent on Jim? His memories failed to serve up an easy answer. In the three days since the verdict he and Jim had been constant companions and he had begun to feel as if he were suffocating. And so he had left the apartment by himself to prove his independence.

The results of the experiment were mixed. That he had a separate identity was undeniable, but inside he felt wrong, just as everything felt right when he was at Jim's side.

Spock's feet beat the quickest path back to Jim's apartment.

Jim greeted him at the door, all smiles. "So, what's the weather been like out there?"

"Cold. Damp," Spock said, feeling the dry warmth seep into his skin.

I have faith in you, Spock. That was what Jim had said when Spock had admitted his feeling of insecurity before going out into the City. It seemed that Jim spoke the truth because he did not ask any questions now. He put his work aside and helped Spock fix some tea.

Spock sipped his tea while Kirk flipped through a book. It was a confusing place at which to be: he believed that his mental faculties had returned, and his memories, and even his ability to deal with, and to understand, humans was returning, but he was coming to a point of painful self-awareness. He was not sure how much distance to put between himself and his lover, where to draw a line between having a sense of self and simply being selfish. Jim was--or had been--his spouse, but it was clear in so many ways that he was his own man. Spock struggled with what was appropriate, and with what he, himself, wanted.

If only it were as easy as before. Spock could remember, now. He had always been busy with multiple projects, working into the wee hours even when Jim wanted to see him.

No wonder, then, that Jim had occupied himself with books and collectibles and other hobbies. Even when he was with Spock, he was often alone.

This suddenly struck Spock as being very sad.

He looked at the man in the chair, engrossed in a large print book.

"Jim?" Spock asked shyly.

Jim immediately put the book down and fixed upon Spock intently. "Spock?" He got up. "Do you need something?"

"No, no, I . . ."

Kirk unconsciously straightened his jacket--still in uniform--and sat down again.

"I was wondering why we spent so little time together, like this."

Kirk leaned towards him. "But we did."

"What I mean is that it seems we ignored each other's presence."

"We were both very busy." Kirk frowned. He stood up, then sat down again on the arm of the chair, hands on one knee. "Spock, do you remember what it was like to be bonded?" Kirk's eyes unfocused. "To feel that presence inside, that warmth that never went away." Kirk smiled gently and turned towards Spock. "No matter what happened, I always felt you near me."

Spock's blood pulsed at the mention of bonding. Part of him, it seemed, remembered very well.

It was very easy to reach for Jim, kiss him, and press their bodies together. Jim made it easy. Jim molded to the shape of his desire, perfectly.

Spock began to remove the captain's uniform, piece by piece.

Jim gave him that little look he had, the one that spoke of secrets yet unfathomed, and directed Spock to his bed.

They fell upon it, pulling against each other for purchase, pleasing themselves.

But again Jim yielded, inviting Spock to enact his fantasies upon him.

Flesh slapped against flesh, and then all was still.

Spock smoothed the tips of his fingers on Jim's cheek. "Why do you make it so easy?" he asked.

Jim was about to say, "Because I love you," as he had said the night before, but he could already see that Spock would not be satisfied with this explanation. Kirk touched the tip of Spock's nose. "You are desire," he said.

"I am? I do not understand. You are so . . . sensual."

"You are desire," Kirk reiterated. "I am the fulfillment of desire." He let that sink in. "So, you see, we both bring something to the table."

"This is a very silly conversation."

Kirk's face clouded, and then it looked as if he meant to make a joke, but he settled on seriousness. "It isn't silly. Bond us again."

"I am uncertain."

"So was I, the first time. But I only mention the prospect and we end up here. That should tell you something."

Spock felt a familiar stirring in his loins--again. He cuddled up closer to Jim, taking one of his thighs between his own.

Jim closed his eyes briefly as they made contact, then looked at Spock searchingly. Spock couldn't meet that gaze. He bent forward and rested his head on Jim's collar bone.

"What if I lose myself?" he asked.

Kirk carded a hand through Spock's hair. "What if you find yourself? Bonding is normal for Vulcans. It won't hurt you."

Spock sighed softly. He extricated himself from Jim, who rolled towards him anyway, and lay on his back. "How do I separate myself from you? Rather, how much?"

"Spock . . ." Kirk sighed now. "How do I make this clear to you?

"You were always the dominant one, emotionally. And I liked it that way. I have too many demons, too many bad memories that go bump in the night. You were . . . an adventure. I liked living in your world.

"If we did anything, it was because you wanted to, and if you didn't want to, it didn't happen. There were a few times I refused to take your medicine and we had a huge fight and didn't talk to each other for days, or . . . years." Jim's voice broke a little, but he controlled himself. "But usually I took it." Kirk sat up in bed, agitated. "How can you be afraid you'll lose yourself when everything that happens is what you wanted? If you know who you are, and what you want, then you know yourself, right?"

"Shouldn't it be a struggle, to acquire knowledge?"

Kirk held up his hands. "People struggle when they fight their own desires, or when they fight other people. Our desires happen to coincide." His face softened a bit. "It took us a long time to find each other."

"Yes," Spock breathed, and sank into the bedclothes.

Kirk followed him, lying down beside him.

Spock reached for Jim, caressing the meldpoints. The thinnest whisper of a bond was there; had been, since he had awoken from the _Fal Tor Pan_. Now he sought to find the pathways, reconnect them.

It was a jumble, yet, as Jim said, his feet knew the way.

Slowly he gathered the strands and followed the pathways, finding often that the connection was already there, firm, waiting, only hidden. As they were brought to light, little by little, the old order of his mind, the original pattern, reasserted itself.

Feeling stronger, he reached deeper into Jim's mind only to find as he made his claim there that Jim had already done the same to him. Well and truly caught.

Spock removed his hand. Jim gasped. Spock said, "You surprise me, as always."

Pink bubbles of amusement burst through the bond. "Why are you surprised?"

Consternation. "I should not be."

Jim smiled like the cat that got the cream. "You're right."

Spock climbed on top of him and wiped the smirk off his face by kissing him greedily. He molded flesh against flesh, almost frantically. Jim only swiveled his hips and urged him on.

Spock was shocking himself. He pulled away, panting, and shook his head. "It's just as you said. I am desire." Caught by the absurdity of that, Spock almost laughed. "Why didn't you tell me? All this time, I thought it came from you."

A warm assurance shot through the bond. "Hey, I tried seducing you. I gave it my best shot, but I couldn't make that something that wasn't there. It had to come from you. I may be good, but . . ."

"Of course. Logical."

"Better?"

"Yes, quite."

Kirk stretched his back. "That's great. So, were you planning on teasing me all night, or--?"

"Pardon?"

"Weren't you in the middle of something?"

"Ah, yes. Well, I believe the approach was rather crass, and I am attempting to formulate a--"

"Stick a lid on it. I think it's your turn."

"Really?" Still teasing.

"Yes."

"Then, that is something most eagerly to be wished for."

"Shut up," Kirk growled, and kissed him, biting a little.

Spock next awoke in Jim's arms, his back against the fine skin of the human's chest. The rise and fall of Jim's body told him that Jim still slept. The beating of his heart was slow and sure. Spock closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the intimacy.It couldn't be real, and yet it was: to be back here at home with Jim. With all that had happened, to be alive, and whole, and sane, in this physical body. The previous days were like a hazy, confusing dream. _I once was lost, but now am found,_ Spock quoted to himself. To be Jim's, to belong to this incredible creature--for good or for ill he **needed** Jim. To fuss about it was simply pointless.

He woke his bondmate and engaged in all the familiar morning rituals. Yesterday he had been filled with anxiety as he carried out the morning routine because something was missing; now he found them comforting. Jim could see the change.

"What a difference a day makes," he said lightly.

"There is a new bake shop in the financial district that also serves ice cream. Would you like to come?" Spock offered.

"Do they have chocolate?"

They walked in the brisk morning air, Spock a little behind Kirk, letting him be his shield against the world. That unnerving sense of separation from his surroundings had dissipated.

Jim Kirk, that irrepressible ball of energy, conquered any room, any crowd, any street corner. Spock abided in his shadow, enjoying his husband's mastery indirectly, liberated from the discomfort of having attention focused on him. And yet, if a stranger had ventured to ask him a question, security was still his. He knew who he was, and what he wanted.


End file.
